


Defiance and Progress [FANART] 101539

by Loup_Aigre



Series: Defiance and Progress [FANART] [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Slave Stiles Stilinski, drawing is fun, i'm still learning, my attempt at fanart, you should read this fic!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-02-21 09:56:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2464109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loup_Aigre/pseuds/Loup_Aigre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This fanart is inspired by rosepetals42's fic. Read it! It's fantastic! </p><p>"When Derek literally stumbles into Stiles at a slave auction, he expects to buy him and his friend and stop worrying about him. He expects it to be simple and easy. But there's nothing simple or easy about "owning" Stiles. And Derek never does stop worrying."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosepetals42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosepetals42/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Defiance and Progress](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2440541) by [rosepetals42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosepetals42/pseuds/rosepetals42). 



> Just found this lovely fic. If you like angst, realistic character development, and an all around interesting look at what the world might be like if humans were enslaved by werewolves, than this is the fic for you! Just be sure to read the warnings and only begin reading if you are in arms reach of chocolate and a snuggle buddy.
> 
> Also Thanks rosepetals42 for this wonderful story and letting me do art for it.

 

 

> He looked back at the corner where the slave was standing, mouth twisting as he got a better look. The slave was blindfolded, some kind of rag tightly bound across his eyes, even though the room was dark enough that Derek though a human wouldn’t be able to see very clearly anyway. He was shirtless, hands tied behind his back, leaving his chest exposed.
> 
>             It was disgusting. Derek couldn’t help but stare. It was covered in dirt and grime and- Derek focused his eyes- no, the dark patch along the boy’s side was a bruise, not dirt. A huge, deep bruise clearly made by some sort of boot. Derek didn’t even know how long that would take to heal. It would take him about five minutes but humans were different.
> 
>             He didn’t think on it for long though because his eyes had already flashed to the most prominent feature of the slave’s chest, which for once wasn’t the number tattoo on the upper left chest that all slaves had: it was the scars. There were four ragged lines-  _werewolf claws,_ Derek’s mind supplied- that ran from above the boy’s collarbone to almost halfway down his chest. They curved over his shoulder on the right side and Derek wondered if they ran all along his back. They were healed over and pink, but not old yet. Not faded.
> 
>             The sight was horrifying, but it was the smells that had Derek’s stomach turning. It was all dirt, sweat, and blood. And though he obviously didn’t know all the nuances of this slave’s emotional scents, the overriding smells of fear and desperation were too clear not to pick up. Derek actually concentrated on his own water-logged smell just to try to avoi-
> 
>             “Alright, fucker,” the slave’s voice was hoarse and tired but angry. “I know you’re there. Let’s just get playtime over with, shall we?”
> 
>             “Uh,” Derek drew a complete blank on what to say. “I- I’m not-” his voice had come out higher than usual. He paused, planning on clearing his throat when the boy’s whole demeanor shifted. Derek hadn’t even realized how tense the slave was holding himself until he sagged, letting out a breath of air and sort of collapsing into the corner.
> 
>             “Oh, shit,” the boy breathed. “You’re not-  _fuck._  You gotta announce that next time, man. Nearly gave me a heart attack.” The boy let out a relieved laugh and Derek could only blink. He had no idea what was happening. Luckily the boy was already moving, not waiting for a response. He took a step away from the corner, shoulder twitching like he had tried to reach out to put his hands out before remembering they were tied behind his back.
> 
>             The slave took a deep breath. “Dude, you stink. You smell like the fucking water hole. Didja fall in or someth-” The boy stopped himself so abruptly that Derek thought something was wrong.
> 
>             “Fuck- waterboarding? I didn’t know this group was into that. That… that sucks.”
> 
>             It finally hit Derek then. The boy thought he was another slave. Thrown in there as punishment. Though what the fuck was this kid talking about? Waterboarding? Wasn’t that like holding someone underwater? Who did that?
> 
>             “Uh,” Derek supplied again. He kept his voice higher than usual. Not that he was trying to deceive the slave but, at this point, what was he supposed to tell him? “Yeah.”

 

 

 

 

 

Come join me on Tumblr!  [michicant123](http://michicant123.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally an update to my original work to better fit the fic. Thanks for all your comments and constructive feedback! :)

 

>  
> 
> He looked back at the corner where the slave was standing, mouth twisting as he got a better look. The slave was blindfolded, some kind of rag tightly bound across his eyes, even though the room was dark enough that Derek though a human wouldn’t be able to see very clearly anyway. He was shirtless, hands tied behind his back, leaving his chest exposed.
> 
>             It was disgusting. Derek couldn’t help but stare. It was covered in dirt and grime and- Derek focused his eyes- no, the dark patch along the boy’s side was a bruise, not dirt. A huge, deep bruise clearly made by some sort of boot. Derek didn’t even know how long that would take to heal. It would take him about five minutes but humans were different.
> 
>             He didn’t think on it for long though because his eyes had already flashed to the most prominent feature of the slave’s chest, which for once wasn’t the number tattoo on the upper left chest that all slaves had: it was the scars. There were four ragged lines-  _werewolf claws,_ Derek’s mind supplied- that ran from above the boy’s collarbone to almost halfway down his chest. They curved over his shoulder on the right side and Derek wondered if they ran all along his back. They were healed over and pink, but not old yet. Not faded.
> 
>  
> 
>  

Join me on Tumblr! [michicant123](http://michicant123.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think. If you'd like to see more give me a holler, I'm up for suggestions.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think. If you'd like to see more give me a holler, I'm up for suggestions.


End file.
